#muse;otto

who: Otto and Ludo ( @xavecamour )

“You look nervous, mate,” Otto observed, speaking around the mouthful of steamed vegetables that he’d just shoveled into his mouth. He was starving. When Ludo had called him up and invited him out for dinner, he’d almost wept with joy. 

“Bollocks, did we miss a visit home again? Mum’s gonna kill us,” he grimaced, “Or is this a quidditch thing? Is there a game coming up I’ve forgotten about?”

Otto paused to scrutinize his brother’s face. He knew his brother better than he knew himself - knew what each micro-expression meant. The way he looked like he was currently suppressing gas told Otto that it was girl troubles. That, or it was actually gas.

“Is it an Estrella thing?”

who: Otto and anyone

“This is bonkers,” Otto muttered, looking down at himself in mild horror. He hesitantly lifted his hands to his chest, where two heavy flesh orbs now hung from his body. He gave each of them a tentative, explorative squeeze.

“Oh, I hated that. I feel like I have to apologise to Poppy now.” he stated. His eyes widened in fear over a sudden realisation, “I really hope I’m not stuck like this forever.”

who: Otto and Edith ( @edithburning​ )

Otto couldn’t remember how he’d met Edith, or how long they’d been friends. Honestly, if you told him she’d simply... popped up one day, a new friend out of nowhere, he’d believe you. 

They were in the gardens just outside his flat block, enjoying the few rare rays of sunshine London had decided to spare them for the day. He’d found a big stick, and was twirling it around like a staff.

“Oi, Eds,” he said, “Watch this.” 

He attempted a fancy twisty maneuver, like the kind of stuff he saw in Muggle karate movies. He ended up bonking the side of his head.

“Ow,” he stated, blinking stars from his eyes. 

who: Otto and Cash ( @xkilljxy ) 

The thing about lifelong friends is that they sort of...integrate themselves into every aspect of your life before you know it. One minute they’re not around, the next they’re just always there. 

It’s nice.

Otto was more than used to Cash letting himself into his home - it’d been that way since they were kids. So when Otto arrived at the flat after a long day of work to find his best friend on his couch like he belonged there, he barely even blinked.

“Hope you didn’t make any tea or anything, mate,” he said, heading to the kitchenette as he spoke, “Milk’s gone off.” 

Otto opened the fridge and retrieved the orange juice, started drinking straight from the carton. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth as he slumped onto the couch next to Cash.

“Any reason for the surprise visit?” he asked, “Not that I’m complaining. I’d never.” 

who: Otto and Poppy ( @poppypotted )

Otto squinted and leaned closer to the display, trying to read the little sign. 

“Quetza... what?” he shook his head, “Pops, they’ve got to be making this shit up at this point.” 

He tilted his head as he examined the pile of bones they were looking at. It was...interesting, he’d give it that.

“Kinda looks like they stuck a beak on a giraffe,” he observed. “Can we go see the t-rexes now?” 

The museum was quiet. There were a few Muggles milling about, but it seemed to be an off day for tourism. He’d brought Poppy here - not as a date, obviously, she knew he was gay - but as more of a...friend outing? 

She’d mentioned her love for dinosaurs once, so when he’d found out about the big display at the museum he’d decided to take her. It felt like the sort of thing friends did.

A kid nearby was staring at them, wide-eyed. Probably because Otto had a wand sticking out of his back pocket. Otto stared right back, blank-faced and unfazed.

who: Otto and Bailey ( @spellbxnd​ )

Otto really did like his job. He probably looked bored out of his mind while he was bagging and ringing up sweets all day - but really, he always had a vacant expression. That was just his face. So if you asked him, yeah. He liked his job. 

It paid well enough. He got to try out most of the sweets. It was interesting, and he could often people-watch during the quiet hours. He’d watch the people who strolled through the streets of Hogsmeade, imagining what they might be thinking about or discussing. Coming up with the craziest scenarios he could. 

He was watching a woman discuss something fervently with another man. She was probably harbouring a dragon in her basement, and was more than likely in the middle of begging the man (her brother, he reckoned) for help.

“Should just let the poor thing free,” he muttered, popping another Bertie Bott’s bean into his mouth. He grimaced; earwax.

“Oh hey, Bailey,” he said, as the woman in question entered the main floor from the back of the shop, “What are you up to?”